


From the Depths of Winter

by Ember_Eyes_are_for_Tigers



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Falling In Love, Hypothermia, Mage! Faerryn, Not Beta Read, Snowed In, Witch! Nismyl, alternative universe, at least not most of it anyway, dyslexic Faerryn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29487441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember_Eyes_are_for_Tigers/pseuds/Ember_Eyes_are_for_Tigers
Summary: Magic should come easy to everyone, but, not for Faerryn. Which, for a series of events finds herself being hunted by knights and mercenaries for her head.
Relationships: Faerryn Stamen Limu/Nismyl Saurflayer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	From the Depths of Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissMariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMariel/gifts).



> Happy belated Valentine’s Day 
> 
> This story is bad because halfway through I changed the narrative, so ignore that
> 
> Faerryn isn’t my character, and neither is Delearys that makes a small cameo

Faerryn had never meant for the situation to get out of hand, for her reputation to precede her in every land, like a shadow of thorns and the terrified screams of children.

She had never meant to have a reputation in the first place. Her plan, ever since she could remember, was to live a quiet life amongst people. Normal people, to be precise.

After thirteen years of failing miserably to study magic and becoming an even more miserable Mage of the Roots, all she wanted to do was to forget everything she had to go through. And, live a tranquil life, far away from spellbooks and messy incantations that seemed to always misfire.

The moment she had the chance, she left everything and moved to a quaint cottage on the outskirts of a small town. Close enough to be able to pop into the village without a fuss and distant enough to never catch the eye.

Besides, how could she ever be lonely when the frogs from the nearby lake always accompanied her daily tasks with their croaking?

The first year went by in a bliss. 

It became one of her fondest memories and, if she closed her eyes she could still smell the musty and earthy odor of her cottage and the memories would come flooding back in her mind. 

And, yet, after barely a year of living there, everything began unraveling around her. As if expecting her to get comfortable and content for the first time, before ripping her small world away from her. 

You see, she had never quite grasped magic and it’s infinite subtleties, her textbooks and spellbooks had always had jumbled words, and she had often found herself wondering if she was simply illiterate. She had later concluded that, no, she wasn’t illiterate- everyone was talented, except herself, of course, she was horrible with magic.

And, those words held true even after a year from becoming a full fledged Mage. 

It was supposed to be a simple spell, something to clean a pot that got charred after she had forgotten to remove it from the hearth. She had picked up one of her old spellbooks, however, as she finished casting she knew she had just doomed herself.

Flames engulfed her cottage, soon expanding and destroying its surroundings.

After the small cottage, came an even smaller town and a lovely family that took her in. 

She ended up turning their son into a cat after she had tried to heal him from the terrible cold that was inflicting him, forcing him to his bed for weeks. Fair to say that his parents weren’t happy with the new development and Faerryn experienced sleeping in the snow for the first time. Albeit, not her last. 

From that point on, for the next five years, Faerryn found herself moving constantly. Going from quaint villages, that made her heart ache in the memory of her old cottage, to stunning cities and to remote farms. 

However, as frequently as she moved, rumors about her began to spread. The harm she caused and the threat she posed to everyone. 

She began spending more time on the road, rarely stopping and, if she did, the fear of being found rotted in her mind. 

People had been sent to hunt after her, to destroy the curse she was for this world.

It was fine for the most part, unless she dwelled too much on it. Which got near impossible when these hunters were close enough for her to hear the hooves of their horses sink into the snow and hear their conversations. 

* * *

“She’s the greatest our glorious nation has gone against in the last two hundred years. If we manage to catch that magical bitch, we may finally be knighted, cousin,”

Although she had just woken up, she immediately froze into place, hearing those words. 

“Don’t get your hopes too high, Gelyn. She’s a master of deception and is known for her unpredictability. Once, she even turned all the metal around her in molten liquid, trapping the knights that had caught her in their own armour”

Faerryn remembered, far too well. 

“It looks like someone did their homework back at the good old abbey,”

“We must be careful! This isn’t a joke,”

“Oh, calm down, dear cousin, it’ll be a piece of cake. I’ll handle her, so you won’t even have to ruin your delicate hands by holding up a sword. Besides, I’d be impressed if they even taught you how to fight back at the abbey,”

The two voices grew quiet as they walked away from her hiding spot and she could finally sneak out from her snow alcove. 

She sighed, eyeing where she presumed the two had disappeared to.

Perhaps she could run towards them and let herself be apprehended, hoping not to get killed. She didn’t know if prison would be as bad as sleeping in the snow, although, being stuck in a cell would probably make her go insane. Especially after having spent so long on the run. 

So, she brushed her clothes and grabbed her light bag and continued walking, going in the opposite direction of where the two to-be-knights had disappeared.

Around her, the world was covered in a thick layer of snow, trees crystalline, with icicles hanging from their branches. A beautiful, yet lonely view. 

Her gaze trailed along the horizon, her eyes unable to latch on any sort of landmark to give her a sense of where she could possibly be heading towards. Ever since she had lost her map a couple months prior she had been tirelessly wandering, with no idea where she was headed.

Wind began picking up and all she could do was press her coat around her tighter and wait for her teeth to stop chattering.

Soon after though, as if the wind had been a warning from the sky, snow began whirling down around her. Delicate snowflakes layering on the ground and making the lonely, yet beautiful, panorama become colder and captivating.

Quite literally.

Snow began falling thicker and more rapidly, quickly surrounding Faerryn in its freezing embrace. She continued moving, energy draining from her at every footstep she took. 

Her limbs numbed at the cold, and she soon found herself stumbling rather than walking, until she eventually fell and was unable to get up. Faerryn remained quiet as she moved to stare at the sky, breathing slowly, her breath condensing in front of her.

_ How ironic would it be if she died now, after all she had endured _ , she thought, before the sky completely disappeared.

* * *

When she woke up, hours or perhaps days later, the first thought Faerryn had was that she was either dreaming, or dead. 

Warmth surrounded her, the numbness in her limbs had dissipated, leaving her exhausted and a shell of herself. Nevertheless, she could feel something soft against her skin and once she struggled to open her eyes she noticed she was bundled in a yellow blanket. 

Once she had her eyes open, she was able to observe her surroundings and, as she did, she progressively became more confused. 

She was resting on a cot in a corner of the room, letting her have a view of the entire room and it’s rich yellow wallpaper. A sweet smell pervaded in the room and Faerryn moved her gaze towards its origin.

A kitchen was at the other end of the room, steam rolling off some pots and pans, although they were not the cause for the sweetness. In fact, on what Faerryn could only presume being a table, all sorts of baked goods were strewn. In a manner that nearly covered the table. 

There was another point of interest that caught her eye and it was a figure sitting on an armchair, focused on the book on their lap.

Faerryn tried to speak, to ask them who they were and why she found herself here, however, all that came out was something similar to a growl. Nevertheless, that was enough to catch the strangers attention.

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” They grinned at her and Faerryn stopped breathing.

A rush of warmth crept on her cheeks and the stranger closed the book and stood, beginning to walk towards her smiling kindly, golden hair encircling their face.

“Uuuh,” Faerryn coughed, throat burning.

“Loratris found you half dead and brought you here. I was quite certain you wouldn’t survive, but, you’re really tough,”

She didn’t trust her voice so she stayed there, her back half raised, propping itself on the wall as she stared dumbfounded at the stranger.

“I’m Nismyl, though I doubt you’ve ever heard of me. You’re not from around here,”

“Can I-?” Nismyl pointed at Faerryn’s arms, which had been carefully tucked in the blanket.

She flushed but nodded.

Nismyl hands, much darker in contrast to Faerryn’s pale skin, were soft at the touch and incredibly warm, as if she had been sitting next to a hearth, hands so close to the fire that it felt like a miracle they had not yet burst in flames. She shivered, but, Nismyl remained quiet, eyes observing her own hands in concentration.

And, then, she felt it. Fire bursting through her fingertips, controlled, with its intent not to burn and destroy, but to burn and and be reborn into health. 

It expanded from her arm, creeping through her body and reaching her heart. Engulfing it in roaring fire.

And, Faerryn found herself, for the first time in so long, to not be scared.

“Magic,” her voice came in a broken whisper, grating against her throat.

Nismyl diverted her attention from her arm, removing her hands and turning towards her, a small smile appearing on her face.

“That’s what I’m known for doing. Are you feeling any better?”

The fire had receded, leaving her cold and bare once more, praying for the ghost of Nismyl’s flames to return in an uproar. However, Faerryn nodded.

Nismyl grinned and turned towards the kitchen, “I didn’t know when you were going to wake up, but I was preparing some onion soup, which I doubt will be all that filling, especially after being out cold for three days. But, do you want some?”

Faerryn nodded.

* * *

The snow outside of the windows began accumulating with each snowstorm, dragging them inside even more fiercely. Not that you would hear Faerryn complain.

The time she was spending in the small cottage with Nismyl was like a blessing, fresh air after having wandered in an underground cave for years.

She felt like she would spend hours soaking in every moment, every word, basking in her presence. Learning from her stories and soaking in the warmth of the flame that was Nismyl. 

Faerryn tried to give back as many anecdotes, as many words and the same burning flame, but she found herself lacking, finding herself reluctant to discuss those long years alone. Or, anything that reminded her of her path of mistakes and failing magic.

That was something where Nismyl seemed to have no problem focusing on.

It had been one of the first things Nismyl had told her, especially after noticing her admiration towards her skill and prowess.

“I’m more of a healer. That’s mostly why the people at the village across the forest come to me,” she had said, matter if factly.

The rays of the morning sun came from the window, illuminating the room in its golden light.

“And, sometimes, they get pushed by rumours and come to me for love potions. Which, even if it were something that could be done, I don’t think it would be morally just,”

Faerryn had nodded absentmindedly at that, she still feared her throat to hurt every time she tried to talk. However, her thoughts were about her old textbooks and all the notions they contained, perhaps Nismyl might learn something from them.

“But, would you be interested in... knowing how?” She had asked, throat aching as she did.

Nismyl raised an eyebrow at her, “I did just say that it would be wrong so I don’t… think I would want to learn how to strip someone from their will. So, probably not,”

Faerryn had nodded,  _ most of her books had burnt with her cottage either way _ .

Then, she had asked, “How did you learn you could cast?”

Her face had darkened, although she had offered a weak smile. “Oh, you know, insects and stuff,”

Faerryn nodded once again, and murmured, “I know, I turned my brother into a fish for two days,” 

With her secret out and with Nismyl dark brown eyes on her in surprise, Faerryn remained silent, finishing her breakfast.

Another memory that often resurfaced was quiet. 

It had been night, the hearth was slowly disappearing into ash, and they were both sitting in an armchair, a cake long forgotten on its plate as their voices had become sleepy whispers.

There hadn’t been anything particular about that precise moment, they often ended up speaking until the sun had long since disappeared, leaving them alone with each other.

“Do you bake often?” She had asked through her exhaustion, and Nismyl had opened her eyes in a curious, yet riddled with sleep, expression.

“Not at all, I mostly prefer savoury food, actually,”

“Then, I’m guessing you bought all of these cakes?”

“Oh!” She laughed, and Faerryn couldn’t stop herself from looking at her, fondly as her laughs quietened down.

“No, no. Let me rephrase, I don’t usually bake because I only bake when I’m anxious or stressed out. Why do you ask?”

Faerryn shrugged, “We’ve been eating cakes and cookies for days, was just wondering,”

“I- I guess you’re right, I hadn’t realised I had been baking so much. I was really worried about you when Loratris brought you, you were so blue and so cold,”

They had sighed, falling back in their armchair and offering Faerryn a tired smile.

“If I had known how important you would become to me, I would’ve baked so many more cakes,”

* * *

Faerryn realised that she had been avoiding making plans.

She had spent weeks with Nismyl and the time they had spent together would become one of her fondest memories, one she would relish in the darkness as she escaped from the people that wanted her head. She was certain of this.

A selfish part of her, one that grew stronger each day, was pleading for her to remain with Nismyl. Remain in the warmth and the welcoming arms of someone that along the way had stopped being a stranger. However, she knew that, if she did, she would only doom them both.

Every once in a while, in her dreams, she would see fire, ravaging and destroying everything in Faerryn’s wake. And, she would be unable to do anything as was forced to stand and watch in horror as Nismyl burned. 

Her nightmares, though, were contrapposed by the day.

The snowstorms had stopped and, while it was still the freezing winter, the sun had begun to slowly melt away some of the snow, letting them free for their forced confinement. 

She helped Nismyl out, trying to clean away the snow from their front door, before it ended up melting completely and creating a mess. She didn’t remember when she had started calling Nismyl’s cottage hers as well, nevertheless, a part of her knew that neither she nor Nismyl would mind.

They had been working for a couple of hours already, sweat had stuck her bangs to her forehead and her arms were aching. 

“So… are you planning on disappearing when winter is over?”

“I-“ she had turned, getting met with Nismyl standing still, shovel in hand and snow untouched at her feet. Her heart clenched at her nervous expression.

“Do you- I’m not sure what I’ll do after winter. Do you want me to go?”

Nismyl remained quiet, before murmuring, “No. Do you want to remain?”

Faerryn could have cried as she took a couple of steps closer to Nismyl, taking her hand, and saying:

“I would love to remain,”

Nismyl smiled and Faerryn felt her heart soar through the sky.

* * *

When summer came Faerryn had started to forget how it felt to be on the run. 

She stood on the porch staring at her small garden with fondness, she had found herself surprised when she discovered a natural talent with plants.

Behind her someone opened the door, probably Nismyl, Loratris wouldn’t have any reason to come talk to her, especially since she enjoyed sleeping more than she enjoyed the bugs that came with summer nights. Nismyl closed the door behind her, walking towards her before sitting next to her. Humming softly as she did.

They didn’t need to share any words between the two of them as their hands reached for each other, as if it were intended by nature.

Faerryn turned to smile lovingly at her girlfriend, as Nismyl rested her head on her shoulder.

She may be forgetting how it felt to be aching and anxious, stricken with the terror of being burned at the stake. Nevertheless, she doubted the feeling of being burned would ever disappear from her life, as her heart seemed to beat with the same rhythm of Nismyl’s fire.

And, perhaps, that was alright.

**Author's Note:**

> This should be the first part of a Valentine’s collection, but don’t trust my word
> 
> Remember to leave a kudos, comment!


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